


D is for Details

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M, NFA Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ducky notices things, and begins piecing the details together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D is for Details

It started off benignly, Ducky realized. The first detail he noticed was something that he didn't usually notice. It was the absence of something, rather than its presence. When he analyzed the situation one evening, sitting in his reclining chair at home, he finally was able to put a finger on what was missing.

 

Jethro wasn't as brash as usual. He had lost a modicum of the brusqueness that had been a baseline for his understanding of his old friend for years. He leaned back in his seat, nursing on his old scotch, and frowned. It was as though the man had found something to – take the edge off, so to speak. He did hope it wasn't something illegal.

 

The second detail he noticed was that Timothy's parking space was empty. He had not driven his own Porsche in that particular morning, and it worried him. When he approached the young agent, the tips of his ears pinked slightly, but he brushed it off, lying through his teeth about having the interiors cleaned and needing to take the bus that morning. When Ducky merely patted his cheek and said some tripe about Jethro's Rule Seven, he couldn't prevent the soft chuckle that escaped when the poor lad's cheeks took on a rosy hue as well.

 

The third detail was one that he ferreted out of Mister Palmer when the younger man was going on about his fiancee and the difficulties they were facing. “Maybe I should just switch teams like ...” He caught himself, but when Timothy came in to get the samples to take to Abigail, he couldn't look the young man in the eye. _Curious. Very curious._

 

Abigail provided the fourth detail, of course. She was such an effervescent young woman, and she loved to talk about her favorite people. Two of her favorite people were the men in question. She was grinning widely, taking large gulps of the Earl Grey tea he'd offered her, and talking. How she managed to do all that without choking was a wonder to the Scotsman. “...and then he came into the bullpen, and he's wearing a turtleneck. Tim I can see. Tony sometimes, yes. But the Bossman? Wearing a turtleneck? I don't get it, Ducky. He never wears a turtleneck.” Well,    
_never_ was not strictly true. There had been a time or two after he'd introduced him to Stephanie that he'd come into the room, whistling, wearing a turtleneck, and winking at him from time. He wasn't the Team Leader at the time, so it wasn't as much of an issue of image as it was today. Besides, the entire team had gone through seven separate levels of hell since then, at least, and he knew that Jethro had borne the most of all: watching his agents suffer was worse than suffering himself. 

 

Jethro himself provided the final detail. He had set his youngest agent to do the 'sketch-and-shoot' portion of a relatively simple crime scene while Anthony was sent off to interview the witnesses. When there was a shot fired, it was to Timothy Jethro looked first, giving him a quick assessment before running pell-mell toward Anthony. Luckily, Anthony was unscathed, but he could see in Jethro's eyes a self-recriminating look that he had to do something about. It was definitely past time for the ME to intervene. 

 

“Jethro, may I speak to you, please?” Ducky waited until the team had finished their paperwork and were getting ready to leave. 

 

“Can this wait, Duck? Was gonna go home and get somethin' t' eat.” He looked quickly toward the elevator where his paramour had just left. 

 

“Timothy will understand if I take a few moments to speak to you.” The shock on his face was priceless. “Yes, Jethro. Would you like a dash of liquid courage, or are you prepared to face this conversation unmedicated?” Ducky gave his old friend a half-smile that said more than words ever could. 

 

“Little bit of somethin' wouldn't go amiss, Duck. Not if we're doin' this now. What gave us away?” Jethro held out his hand, accepting the Scotch that Ducky offered him. 

 

“Details, Jethro. They do say the devil is in them.” They sat down, Jethro on Ducky's seat, and Ducky on his rolling stool. “Do you know that I knew a couple of young men when I was in my twenties – having a romantic relationship with another of your own gender was even more frowned on that it is currently, even in our strict circles – well, that's not unknown. As I was saying, Michael and Edward were extremely fond of each other, and both were young airmen in the Royal Air Force. The RAF would not have allowed them to serve had the recruiters known of their particular predicament, however, the two men were quite discreet: they had the art of the secret tryst down to a perfected science. However, after a period of time, they became lax about the details. Michael came to Physical Training one morning wearing a shirt that didn't quite fit. It was obvious to any of us who pay attention to such things – you would have noticed right away, Jethro – that he had inadvertently worn one of Edward's tunics that morning, and had not even noticed it. 

 

“I let that one incident slide. However, later that very week, one of his superior officers noticed something a little more obvious – I'm certain I don't have to be more specific...” That was true, as Jethro's face flushed just a little, and he gestured for Ducky to continue. “Michael refused to give up the name of his 'partner in crime', and that very evening, he was treated to a beating from which he never recovered.” Jethro winced as he could picture exactly what kind of beating Ducky was referring to. It was a dirty little secret of the military life. Keep your nose clean, and everything would remain copacetic. Step too far out of line, and you would be brought back to heel with all the force available, even if it were by the fists and feet of your fellow-soldier. That was less true now than it had been, but such things still did happen. 

 

“I do not tell this story to disparage your budding relationship with Timothy. I merely point it out because I wonder if you and he are reaching that stage yourself, and I have forever lived with the guilt of the fact that I said nothing when I noticed the other telling details that led me to the inevitable conclusion that they were a pair.” Ducky took a moment to sip slowly at his scotch, his eyes watching Jethro's face as the other man processed the information. “The point of my sordid tale is that you must take care to keep the details clear if you wish to keep this a secret from the rest of your team. Personally, other than the teasing your young man might receive from Anthony, I see no objection to allowing things to progress as they have been thus far. However, I wanted you to be aware that working in this building with a fine collection of investigative minds may have a different result for the two of you than you may anticipate.” 

 

“Thanks, Duck. Appreciate it. What do you recommend? You think Tony and Ziver'd be okay with knowin'? Not sure about Abbs... she still kinda claims Tim as her own.” The ease with which Jethro spoke Timothy's name spoke volumes to the older man, but he kept his silence only smiling slightly as he considered his reply. 

 

“I cannot speak to Abigail's claims, Jethro, but do remember that she also considers you one of her own, as well. I believe – I cannot be certain of course – that she has realized the futility of her attraction and will rejoice that Timothy has found someone so suitable for his companion.” Ducky took another slow sip, and rolled his seat a little closer to his desk. He didn't want to crowd the younger man, but he did want to reassure him. “Jethro,” he continued, leaning forward and settling a soft hand on the man's leg for a moment. “You have been searching for quite a while for a connection like this one. If it is worth maintaining, I believe it is worth allowing to blossom – fully.” He pulled back, draining his glass. “As for Anthony and Ziva, I foresee no problems, merely the teasing your young man will receive from Anthony's hands, as he is certainly wise enough to avoid teasing you. At least in the current incarnation of your relationship.” Ducky hoped that the two men would someday reach the point that Anthony could tease Jethro and the man would smile, rather than glare or apply a slap to the back of his head. However, he knew that it might be a long time coming. There were small signs, but few and far between. 

 

Jethro stood, draining his own glass. “Thanks, Duck. I'll talk to 'im about it. Not sure what we'll do, but with DADT gone, it's not as dangerous as it was.” Jethro's smile was more genuine than it had been when they came in here. 

 

“Certainly. Now, go on, Jethro. If you wait too much longer, he may begin to worry.” And as the man strode toward the door, his phone began to ring. 

 

He picked it up and answered, “Yeah, Tim. On my way home. No, everything's fine. Got some stuff t' talk about when we get there. No, not bad at all.” 

 

Ducky sat back and smiled, watching him leave. 

 

* * * 

“Hey, Tim.” Jethro strode into the room and grinned. “Looks good, what'cha got?” He gazed over toward the kitchen where his lover was cooking. 

 

“I figured with all the Chinese takeout we've been getting lately, I'd just make us up some simple pasta. Since we're still on call and all. Pasta and steamed vegetables.” Tim smiled and turned to stand in Jethro's embrace, tilting his head up to give him a quick kiss. 

 

“Sounds good. Then we can do somethin' like steak in the next couple days.” Jethro nodded. 

 

“Exactly.” Tim stirred the sauce, sniffing at it. “So, what do we need to talk about?” 

 

“Duck stopped me.” Jethro started divesting himself of the trappings of his job: his gun, his badge his phone. He set them in their places, and sighed. “Figured us out, actually.” 

 

“What?” Tim stepped back quickly from the stove, narrowly avoiding the gloop of sauce that slopped over the side of the pan when Tim jerked the spoon too quickly. 

 

“Hey.” Jethro paused in his routine to step back over toward Tim and grasp his shoulder gently. “Nothin' t' worry about. It's alright. Had some advice for us, though.” 

 

“Really? What was it?” Tim's eyebrows rose, and his voice seemed to rise a bit too. “How did he figure it out, anyway? We've been so discreet.” 

 

Jethro answered both questions at once, settling in for a long discussion. “Details.” 


End file.
